


The Memory of a Lover

by bronzerapper



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Depression, F/M, Love, Lovers, Romance, Sadness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-30
Updated: 2019-05-30
Packaged: 2020-03-29 21:01:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19027849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bronzerapper/pseuds/bronzerapper
Summary: A man reflects on the loss of his lover.





	The Memory of a Lover

Do I ever live anymore?   
My world has unwinded since that day, and I keep forgetting about it.   
The bright Dawn with her gentle breaths coming in through my window doesn’t feel comforting anymore.   
It feels like a daily reminder she has left me.   
I lay in a bed of ruin with her sweatshirt as my only reminder she once would lace her arms around my stomach, squeezing me like a teddy bear.   
Her picture remains on the wall, that she swore she disliked looks back on me. When I rise in the morning it doesn’t feel natural.   
It feels like my legs are stilts I struggle to balance on as I drift to the hallway.   
White paint she wanted to paint a dull blue shimmering at me.   
The faint ticking of a clock as I step into the living room.   
She used to hound me over the couch I got, I knew she hated the color, but I thought it was nice. She soon did as well.   
We’d curl together on it, I rest my face in her neck with that soft scent of coconut in her hair would lull me to deep sleep.   
If I were to lay there now I’d never want to move, the T.v would beckon my name like it has for the past days.   
When I stop to look out the window, I can barely see her sitting in the swinging chair, swaying her legs back and forth as she just barely grazed the grass with her feet. Her hair wisping in the wind.   
_“ Come look! It’s a Robin!”_ She would call me out anytime a bird landed on our yard’s large oak tree. Her voice soft like a child's when they find an animal.   
She cared so much about things so small, I wish I was like her in that way. How she could pick out the particular things about me.   
How I apparently would bite my lip when I concentrated too hard, or how I always ended up waking up on my side without fail.   
Then I would point out how she laughed at the stupidest words, like ‘ Milk Jug ‘ or ‘ Hourglass.’  She truly was a character.   
This house echos her whole Essence, her overzealous determination, or her intoxicating confidence in herself that seeped into me slowly.   
I remember how we met, it was the Fourth of July, I was invited to a party by one of my quieter colleagues at work. When I got there I was introduced to her and we talked. It was simple work talk. Where did she work? She worked at a Veterinary Clinic as the Secretary.   
I can never forget the first time I made her laugh. It was like the angels decided to send one of their own down and gave her the laughter of a Dove’s feather.   
_“Are you gonna ask me for my number or just stare at me?”_ She spoke to me so sweetly.   
I had never been treated so kindly by someone I hadn’t ever met.   
We spoke, dated, got a home together. Never got married though, we never felt the need to.   
I stand in this house, without as much as a clue of what to do.   
I go to my job, yet that only feels like a blur of nothing.   
I come home and order food. I feel too weak to go into the kitchen that she seemingly owned. I don’t wanna disrupt it. It seemed every time I did anything in it she would give me a playful glare.   
_“ Don’t burn yourself!”_ I remember how she freaked out when I had burnt myself on accident.   
I sit on my bed now, the world has stopped for me.   
I wish sometimes I could tell her.   
Tell her she should’ve been more careful when driving. Tell her how much I love her, how I’d do anything to hold her close once again.   
But It’ll never happen.   
She’s gone.   
My sweet Rose has passed away.   
  


  
Her pictures and clothes are all I have left of her.   
I wish I had more. More of her being, besides my memories.   
She wouldn’t want me moping.    
She would probably say something like  _ “ The rain is your tears, We’ve got enough of them! Get up you dufus.”  _   
God how I miss her.   
I miss my sweet Rose. 

  



End file.
